


Pretty in Lace

by brookebond



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Arthur is a bit of a perve, Lingerie, M/M, eames in lingerie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 03:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12246108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookebond/pseuds/brookebond
Summary: Arthur sees a lot of things he likes.





	Pretty in Lace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenThayet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenThayet/gifts).



> This is a QueenThayet's prize from Inception Bingo (or at least I'm pretty sure that's what it was from!)  
> I'm sorry it's so late, but hey, it's here in the end!  
> The prompt was Eames wearing lace boxer shorts.  
> You can find links to all the lingerie I mention in this fic at the end.
> 
> Thank you lbswasp for the quick beta!

Arthur had this neighbour. Well, he supposed they weren’t really neighbours but rather they lived on the same floor in the same residence hall. A few rooms separated them but Arthur was annoyingly aware of this particular neighbour. He had a few suspicions as to _why_ he always knew when this particular neighbour walked into a room: mostly because the guy was exactly his type.

There was another reason that Ariadne liked to point out every single time: the guy apparently didn’t own a single shirt.

“Oh, there he is!” Ariadne practically squealed in his ear, squeezing his arm as she not so subtly pointed at the guy that had just walked into the library.

Arthur refused to turn his head to look despite the tug he felt in the back of his mind. He _wanted_ to look, he _wanted_ to see his hot neighbour again, but he had a Psych paper due in a week and getting distracted by an attractive guy wasn’t on his schedule.

“He’s wearing a shirt,” Ariadne sighed, her disappointment almost palpable.

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” Arthur commented. “He’s not even your type.”

“Just because my type is French with dark hair and dating a total douche doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the male form,” Ariadne said with a whack to Arthur’s shoulder. “Besides, he is pretty. Even you have to agree.”

“Maybe I do,” Arthur acquiesced. “But we don’t know if he’s gay and as much as I love a bit of rough play, I don’t actually want to be beaten to a pulp by some roided up jock.”

“Yusuf said he is.”

“Who?”

“Yusuf,” Ariadne repeated, raising her brows as though saying this person’s name was going to help him remember anything at all.

“I’ve got no idea who that is,” Arthur sighed, slumping back in his chair, giving up on all premise of getting any work done.

“Yusuf lives on your floor as well and according to him, shirtless guy is definitely into dudes.”

“Ari, you can’t go trusting everything people tell you. He was probably trying to impress you so he could get into your pants.” It had happened before, too many times for Arthur to count. Usually, telling them she wasn’t interested wasn’t actually enough to get the guys to stop. Arthur had lost track of how many times he’d pretended to be her boyfriend just to get her away safely.

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.”

“You are so lame,” Arthur groaned.

“Don’t hate the player—”

“If you finish that, I will murder you in your sleep,” Arthur muttered, satisfaction coursing through him as Ariadne held her hands up in surrender.

“Fine,” she drawled. “But you’re buying me a shake.”

It was a small price to pay to keep her quiet. Arthur was more than happy to buy her a million shakes if it meant she would stop with her terrible jokes and dated clichés.

He trailed after her, slinging his satchel over his shoulder and trying to keep his eyes in front of him. He failed miserably, of course. The path to the exit took him directly by his hot neighbour and Arthur was like a moth to the flame, willing to burn himself just to get one fleeting moment of anything.

As Arthur walked past the table, he couldn’t help but notice how the guy’s jeans had slipped down a little and flashed a sliver of red with tiny white polka dots. He nearly collided with a bookshelf, thankfully saved from any embarrassment by Ariadne tugging him on, demanding fries and a shake.

Arthur caught a brief glance of his neighbour’s face as he was pulled from the library. The image of those plush lips turned up in a smirk stayed with him even after he ordered a chocolate shake and an unreasonably large side of fries.

—

The one thing Arthur really, truly, honestly missed about living with his parents was being able to piss in peace.

At two in the morning, it was a fairly safe assumption that it would be quiet in the bathroom and Arthur had two whole minutes of solitude before the door banged open, loud voices calling to one another as someone joined him at the urinal.

“Nah, mate, I’m trollied,” a voice called back to their friend, getting uncomfortably loud as the person moved closer to Arthur. “I’m gonna take a slash and pack it in.”

“Don’t be such a pansy,” their friend called, holding the door open by the sound of it.

“Oi, toss off mate.”

Arthur internally cringed, recognising the rough British accent. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at just to double check that he was right.

His hot neighbour.

Whatever being was above apparently actually hated Arthur.

“Your loss. Later, Eames.”

Arthur was grateful when the door closed. He had less of an audience now but he was finding it hard to finish with the source of his current wet dreams standing so close to him.

The sound of a fly being undone was abnormally loud and Arthur was fairly certain his heart pounding against his chest could be heard in the next state over. He had no idea how his hot neighbour hadn’t called him out on it yet but, thankfully, he was blissfully silent except for the little sigh that escaped as he relieved himself.

Arthur tried to keep his eyes on the tiles in front of him, he really, really did, but he was being tested—and failing miserably. He couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, sneaking over to catch glimpses of his hot neighbour and feeling utterly guilty that he was perving on someone as they used the bathroom. His mother had taught him better than that. But it was too tempting, especially when he swore there was pale pink lace bunching at his neighbour’s hips.

He was still standing there, thoughts fixated on the pink he had seen, when the door slamming snapped him from his daydream.

No one else was in the bathroom with him.

Arthur stuffed himself back into his jeans and escaped the bathroom as fast—but calmly—as he could manage, not allowing himself to think about pink or lips or his name or the fact that he now knew his neighbour was uncut…

He forced the thoughts from his mind and settled in at his desk, determined to finish his psych paper and pretend that nothing had happened, that he didn’t know… Arthur shook his head and focused on his laptop screen, reading over everything he had written before his bathroom break to get back into the right frame of mind.

When he finally collapsed into bed two hours later, he hadn’t managed to write anything else for his paper but he did have a new collection of bookmarks dedicated to pink lace.

—

Showers were amazing. That was the height of Arthur’s thought process after the last final had thoroughly burned him out. He’d spent most of the previous night studying until his eyes stung and had barely made it through his final without falling asleep at his desk.

Now, he was struggling to keep his eyes open under the spray.

He only turned the water off when it started to turn cold, not wanting to spend the walk back to his room shivering.

As it was, Arthur was cold the minute the water stopped flowing but he bit his tongue, grabbed his towel from the hook next to him and wrapped it around his waist before pulling the curtain open. Communal showers were pretty horrible, in Arthur's opinion. He had never particularly enjoyed having to shower with several other people in the same room as him, but over the past three years of college, Arthur had somehow managed to get over whatever had originally pained him about the experience.

That wasn't to say that he enjoyed it any more than he used to, but he was good at ignoring anyone else that happened to be near.

Apparently, Arthur had been too good at ignoring whoever was in the showers with him though, because when Arthur's eyes landed on the sole person in there, he slipped and slammed into the shower wall, eyes catching on white ruffles before dark trousers slipped over them, hiding the vision from view.

"You right there, mate?" Eames asked, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

If Arthur had actually been in control of his faculties, he would have picked up on the teasing but since he was still caught on the ruffles, he barely managed more than an awkward nod and a mumbled "yeah" as he grabbed his clothes and practically ran back to his room.

Safely in the confines of his bedroom, Arthur tossed his towel to the floor and grabbed his laptop, settling onto the bed as he opened one of his new bookmarks. He'd been going back to the site far more frequently than he had ever intended to but now he had a mission: Arthur was determined to find ruffles.

It took all of two minutes before he found something that resembled what he was positive Eames had been wearing, his dick filling at the sight (and the thought of Eames in nothing but those panties). He palmed himself, pressing gently as he settled the laptop next to him so he could still have a perfect view of the image on his screen. His mind was more than enough to fill in the details that he didn't get to see in the showers but the visual before him was helpful when he got too lost in the glide of his hand, rubbing a thumb over the head to spread precome, slicking himself with every stroke.

Arthur groaned, biting his lip and desperately wishing Eames was there in front of him, wearing nothing but those little frilly panties. At the thought, Arthur came with a grunt, spilling all over his hand and stomach.

He panted, slowing his strokes as he came back to himself, wondering how suspicious it would be if he wandered back for another shower.

—

“Son of a bitch,” Arthur muttered as he wrapped his dressing gown around him tighter, gripping the soft grey fabric tight and shuffling down the stairs along with the entirety of the residence hall. He was going to murder whoever had set off the fire alarm.

It had taken an hour and a half and a rather extensive yoga flow before he managed to fall asleep. But now, apparently only twenty minutes after he’d finally passed out, Arthur was standing outside, watching several firefighters rush into the building to assess whatever had set the alarm off. Arthur had his suspicions that it was just Nash and the toaster again.

He tried to spot the greasy loser amongst the crowd but he was distracted by the sight of Eames without a shirt on. It was typical, really. Arthur was used to seeing Eames’ broad, tattooed chest but it was what he was wearing on his lower half that was captivating him.

There had always been little hints of something extra that Eames was wearing beneath his clothing but now Arthur was faced with the indisputable evidence that Eames wore lace.

His breath caught in his chest and Arthur tried valiantly to tear his gaze away but he was drawn back every few seconds, desperately trying to catch a better glimpse of what Eames was wearing.

He was walking over before he realised what he was doing.

“Here,” Arthur said, holding his dressing gown out. “It’s a little bit cold to be in just… that…”

Eames smiled, taking the gown and slipping it on over his broad shoulders. “Ta.”

Arthur fought to not stare at the way his very own dressing gown stretched over Eames’ torso, barely closing and hiding the lacy little black boxer shorts he was wearing. He swallowed hard, averting his eyes the best he could which was really just moving them up an inch so he was staring at Eames’ belly button. Arthur was fairly certain he was bright red and couldn’t look Eames in the eye.

He hoped the firefighters would clear the building soon and the RA could just ream Nash in private.

"Someone needs to teach Nash how to use the toaster," Eames murmured, stepping a little closer to Arthur as they both stood watching the firefighters start to trail out of the building.

Arthur hummed his agreement, coughing slightly as he looked out over the crowd for the greasy little fucker.

"Think he'll take pointers?"

"Nash? Nah, he doesn't listen to anyone," Arthur said, remembering the one and only time he had let Nash into his study group with Dom, Mal, and Ari. It had gone as disastrously as he had expected it to but Mal had been insistent because he had once mentioned how desperately he needed to get laid and apparently Nash was interested in him.

Arthur shuddered just thinking about touching Nash's greasy locks. It was something he had tried to scrub from his memory even though it had never actually happened.

"Well, maybe the toaster needs to go for a lil walkabout, then," Eames suggested, breaking through Arthur's musings.

"I'm sure I could think of a few other places it might be a little better off," Arthur replied, somehow finding the banter easy to fall into.

It was the first time he and Eames had actually shared more than just a few mumblings, on Arthur's part, and it was going far better than he had ever expected it to.

"Alright, everyone," the RA said into a megaphone, getting their attention and mostly shushing them with the few words that mattered. "We've got the all clear." Before they could say anything else, the crowd rushed forward, everyone desperate to go back to sleep and catch whatever few hours were left before they had to clear out.

Arthur waited for the crowd to thin, unwilling to get trampled in the rush and apparently Eames had the same idea he had or he just really enjoyed standing outside in next to no clothes.

"Thank fuck," Arthur muttered soon after, heading inside and climbing the stairs back to his room. There was still a slow trickle of people climbing them but Arthur managed to get back without incident, only having one person stand on his foot in an unfortunate game of side-stepping that neither of them got out of unscathed.

"Oi, you forget something?"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, somehow feeling that the person was talking to him. He spotted Eames at the end of the hallway, gown billowing open as he strode towards Arthur.

He had forgotten his dressing gown.

"Ah thanks," Arthur murmured, holding out a hand but instead of getting the gown back, Arthur had a palm to his chest and was pushed back into his room, stumbling as Eames crowded into his space. "What are you—?"

Eames tutted, successfully shutting Arthur up with the purse of his perfectly plush lips. It was almost torture, being that close, having Eames' body crowding his own, warming him through, but Arthur couldn't help himself. After months of watching Eames, Arthur was fit to burst, ready to tear through his skin if whatever was happening didn't lead where he thought it was going.

"You're a hard bugger to pin down."

"I'd say you have me sufficiently pinned right now," Arthur said, his mouth working faster than his brain.

Eames smirked, tongue flicking out and swiping over his lower lip. "That I do," he murmured.

Arthur wasn't entirely sure what to do, there was a rather large part of him that was screaming at him to lean forward, to close the last few inches of space between them and finally feel those plush lips, but there was another part of him that wanted to burrow under his blankets and pretend that none of this had ever happened. He almost thought he wouldn't mind saying goodbye to his dressing gown just as long as there was no lingering embarrassment.

"Now what?" Arthur asked, unable to contain himself. He wanted to know what Eames planned, or at the very least he needed to know what Eames wanted.

"Now," Eames said, leaning forward just a little, his breath hot against Arthur's face as he continued, "you have two choices."

"I'm listening," Arthur said, managing to not sound as breathless as he was feeling.

"One; you can send me away and I'll just leave this dressing gown on your bed, never mention this ever again."

Arthur's heart nearly stopped at the words. It was one of those moments where, in the heat of the moment, he knew exactly what he wanted and that wasn't it.

"Two?" Arthur prompted, already knowing whatever Eames said was going to be his preferred option.

"Two..."

"Two..?"

Arthur isn't sure which of them moved first but soft lips pressed against his own, moving gently but surely as though Eames had been certain that Arthur would be receptive to this. He wasn't exactly wrong. Arthur was more than happy to let Eames press him into the wall, tongue tentatively seeking entrance to his mouth as hands slipped under his shirt.

He tried to keep up, tried to get his arms somewhere better than just clutching at Eames' shoulders, but it was difficult to maneuver himself with Eames’ body right there, hard and unyielding.

“I have wanted to do that for so long,” Eames groaned, his lips brushing against Arthur’s, neither of them willing to allow much space between them.

“You… what..?” Arthur asked ineloquently, his thoughts scattered by Eames’ talented mouth.

Eames didn’t answer, instead diving back in and kissing the breath from Arthur who could do nothing more than just cling to Eames’ sturdy frame, moaning at the way Eames’ body was pressing against his insistent erection.

Arthur was more than happy to feel Eames’ answering hardness, he delighted in it, really, knowing that he wasn’t the only one of the entirely taken by what was happening.

He wanted to get on his knees and just look at Eames’ cock straining against his lace boxer shorts but Eames had other plans, apparently, tugging at Arthur’s pyjama pants and pulling them down just enough to free Arthur’s straining dick.

Eames’ own bare flesh pressed against him as Eames slid his hands under Arthur’s arse and lifted him off the ground. Arthur helped as much as he could, wrapping his legs around Eames and holding on for dear life as Eames canted his hips, eliciting a harsh moan from both of them.

It had been too long since Arthur had been with anyone else and a few thrusts was it all took for him to come apart at the seams, spilling all over himself and Eames.

Eames followed with two stuttered snaps of his hips, panting into Arthur’s neck.

Arthur tipped his head back, eyes closed as he caught his breath. It was only when he realised his shirt was sticking to him that he tapped Eames on the shoulder to set him down. He didn’t want to move away from Eames, but he had to clean up and he was pretty sure Eames was feeling the same.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur watched Eames tuck himself back into his boxers—which were unfortunately covered in come—and awkwardly toy with the tie on the dressing gown.

“You know,” Arthur said as he pulled his shirt off and tossed it into the hamper at the end of his bed. “I have some sweats if you need something to go back to your room in. They might fit you.”

“Oh,” Eames breathed, slipping the dressing gown off and tossing it at Arthur. “No worries.”

Arthur caught the gown with his face, scrambling to tug it off. “I just thought that…” Arthur watched Eames pause at the door, his hand on the handle. “You could stay,” he said quietly. “If you want.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Red Polka Dots](https://xdress.com/collections/mens-briefs/products/red-dot-panty)   
>  [Pink Lace](https://xdress.com/collections/mens-lace-underwear/products/the-perfect-lace-brief?variant=32098777731)   
>  [White Ruffles](https://xdress.com/collections/mens-briefs/products/ruffle-boy-short?variant=28474726723)   
>  [Black Lace Boxer Shorts](https://xdress.com/collections/mens-lace-underwear/products/crochet-trim-shorts)


End file.
